Unwrap and Enjoy!
by MountainGirl74
Summary: St. Valentine's Day is supposed to be a time to spend with loved ones, and America has been planning a romantic day with his lover, England, for the last two weeks. But the hero's day is ruined when England cancels last minute. Not long after, America discovers that France won't let anyone be alone on Valentine's Day. He's grateful, but will England feel the same? Rated: MA One-sho


Unwrap and Enjoy

Blue skies, singing birds, and melting piles of snow were just on the other side of the window. It was a beautiful day, but Alfred F. Jones, the human incarnation of the United States of America, wasn't enjoying it the way he usually would. Instead, he'd barricaded himself in his house and paced through the various rooms, an expression somewhere between a scowl and a pout on his young face.

It was Saint Valentine's Day, and people all across his homeland were celebrating with flowers and chocolates and gifts to express love for each other. But the young nation was alone. He'd already called his lover, England, and asked him to spend the day together. Twenty minutes later, the Brit's response still echoed in his thoughts.

"_No. I'm not going to celebrate some bloody holiday designed by gits who want to get laid. I have work to do, so please don't disturb me again today, Alfred."_

His refusal had hurt, especially when he'd basically accused Alfred of only wanted sex. Was it so hard for Arthur to believe that Al genuinely wanted to spend time with him?

Sighing heavily, the bespectacled nation dropped into an armchair and stared moodily out the window. So much for the romantic Valentine's Day he'd been planning for the last two weeks. It was nothing too fancy, really, because he knew Arthur would have gotten flustered and embarrassed over anything extravagant, but he'd still wanted everything to be perfect. _Maybe_ they would have made love that night. Honestly, Al didn't care if they did or not—all he wanted was to spend Valentine's Day with the person he loved the most. He'd even gone to France for advice, most of which hadn't been what Al had wanted to hear. Still, today was supposed to be special. It was downright depressing to be alone on Saint Valentine's Day.

_I even have a lover and I'm stuck by myself._

Well, maybe he could spend the day with someone else who didn't have a valentine—there was no reason for two people to be lonely.

Resigned to not seeing Arthur that day, the blond man fished his cell phone out of his pocket and hit speed-dial four. The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

"_Hello?"_

The quiet voice made America smile. "Sup, Canadia?"

"_Oh, hi, Alfred. I'm going to France's house. He just called and told me to come over right away."_

Man, even his overly shy brother had plans.

"Is something wrong with him?"

"_I don't know, he wouldn't tell me anything. I have to go, America. I'm about to board my plane."_

Alfred sighed. "Whatever, dude. Catch ya later." He hung up before the Canadian could respond. If his shy-as-hell brother was busy, then chances were that the American's other friends were, too. He really was going to spend Valentine's Day by himself.

"Man, this is so lame."

No one answered, but that wasn't a surprise because oh, yeah, he was _alone_ on _Valentine's Day!_ His own boyfriend didn't want to be with him, and his brother was busy elsewhere—though when the American thought about it, he decided France was probably seducing the quiet Canadian. The other nations were probably off celebrating with their partners and America was left with no one.

It occurred to the blond that nothing was stopping him from going to England. Other than Arthur's request that America not disturb him while he was working, of course. No matter how lonely Alfred got, he knew better than to bother the Brit while he was working. He was certainly never going to make _that_ mistake again. Having tea cups and books thrown at him wasn't something he was eager to experience for a second time.

Shuddering at the memory, Alfred curled up on the comfortable armchair and watched the world on the other side of the window. Clouds were beginning to gather, hiding large sections of the sky; it was probably going to rain or snow later.

The longer he watched the clouds, the heavier America's eyelids became, until he was sound asleep in the chair.

X

_Ding-dong!_

The ring of the doorbell startled Alfred awake and he nearly fell out of the chair. Who the heck was at his house at noon on Valentine's Day? He hoped it wasn't someone coming to see him out of pity. Maybe Arthur had sent him flowers or something to make up for not being there!

This thought sent the American running towards the front door of his house, nearly tripping over himself in his excitement. When he threw the door open, however, there was no bouquet of roses, no box of chocolates. What Alfred found on his door step made his jaw drop, his eyes widen, and his face turn a delicate shade of pink.

"A-_Arthur?"_

The personification of the United Kingdom—also known as Arthur Kirkland—was standing just outside Alfred's front door. But that wasn't why the American was staring. England had been turned into his Britannia Angel form and sported a bow and a quiver of arrows, as well as a red sash that read "Cupid." Not only that, but the green-eyed nation was bound by a huge pink ribbon that wrapped around his legs, trapped his arms against his chest and even covered his mouth. It was tied into a large bow over his chest. He was clearly unable to move, and the fury in his eyes almost intimidated the American. England was attempting to speak but couldn't due to the silk over his mouth, though it was definitely something vulgar. Then something else caught Alfred's attention.

Ignoring the muffled words of his lover, the bespectacled nation took a small note card from where it had been tucked into the ribbon. One side read "Handle with Care." The other side had "Unwrap and Enjoy!" written on it, along with an elegant signature that America recognized as France's.

_Uh oh…_

For some reason, the "handle with care" warning seemed like the more important message. England was _livid._

But he couldn't just leave him like that, especially with how dark the sky had gotten and the cold wind that was probably going right through the fabric of England's white toga. So Alfred quickly swept the Englishman into his arms and carried him into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. Arthur protested and squirmed all the way to the living room, though it didn't do him much good. Gently, Al set his lover on his sandaled feet and faced him.

"I know you're mad, Artie, and I'll untie you in a sec, but first you gotta promise not to freak out on me 'cause I totally didn't plan this. So you can be mad, just not at me, okay?" He waited until the glaring Brit rolled his eyes and nodded before he untied the bow and quickly pulled the ribbon off his lover.

Free of the bindings, Arthur quickly threw the quiver of arrows, bow, and Cupid sash to the floor. He was muttering under his breath, something about killing France the next time he saw "that bloody frog."

"Um, Artie?" Alfred's tone was unusually timid.

"What?"

The American offered a hopeful smile. "Since you're already here, will you celebrate Valentine's Day with me?"

England sighed and made the same irritated, exasperated face Alfred remembered from his childhood. That face usually meant he'd done something wrong.

"No. I have work to do, and I already told you, I won't celebrate some commercialized holiday everyone claims is about love when really it's about sex. Besides, I've already been kidnapped, drugged, forced into my angel form and delivered to your doorstep. I'm really not in the mood to celebrate anything."

"Oh." Alfred's tone was meek as he looked down at his sock-covered feet. "Okay."

He didn't lift his gaze when Arthur launched into a rant about work and France and date-rape drugs and how Valentine's Day was a useless holiday. The longer he talked the more vehement he became, until he was pacing the room and practically shouting, his wings fluttering in agitation. He became so focused on his rant that he didn't even notice when his subdued lover left the room and returned a minute later.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Arthur."

"What's the bloody point of giving chocolates or flowers? Why make a bloody holiday for it? If you love someone, don't be a git about it! You shouldn't need a holiday just to show how much you love someone! Show the wanker every chance you get!"

"Arthur!"

"_What?"_

Falling silent, Alfred held up a stuffed light green bunny with fluffy white wings. It was holding a heart that was pattered as the American flag, but the square where the stars would have been was replaced with England's flag. Al offered a single red rose as well, his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes glued to the floor.

"I-I know you think Valentine's Day is just a stupid holiday for people to have sex, but that isn't what I want. You were my mentor, my best friend and my worst enemy. Now, you're my lover, and I want to spend Saint Valentine's Day with you. To me, that doesn't mean sex. We can watch sappy movies and eat chocolates and have a romantic dinner, whatever you want. Just, please take these, and don't be angry anymore."

It was quiet for a moment as Arthur stared at the blushing nation. He often forgot how sensitive the American was, since he was usually so cheerful and fearless. Now, he seemed like a child again, presenting the hand-made Valentine's card he'd given Arthur the first time he'd celebrated the holiday. Just like that, the Englishman found that he couldn't even pretend to be angry, and he accepted the flower and bunny without a word. America smiled.

"Will you stay? Please?"

Bloody hell, could those eyes get any bluer?

"I suppose it won't kill me if I don't go home until tomorrow." He was careful to only smile a little at the younger nation's triumphant cheers, and nuzzled into the American's strong chest when he was wrapped in a tight hug.

"Thank you," Al whispered, overjoyed that he wasn't going to spend Valentine's Day alone.

"Yeah, yeah. Let go of me, wanker," Arthur demanded playfully. "We've got sappy movies that need watching."

"I picked out all your favorites!" the taller nation chirped, obviously proud of himself. "And I have tea we can make."

"Sounds lovely, Al." He placed a soft kiss on the American's cheek. "Sorry about being such a git."

"It's okay, we still have plenty of time to do everything I planned!" Without bothering to ask for permission, Alfred scooped up his petite lover and carried the smaller man down the hall to the den. He'd prepared the room just for this, though it wasn't strewn with flower petals or lit only by candles or anything like that. Instead, the couch was centered in front of the flat-screen TV with the footrest in place, the curtains were drawn to enhance the movie viewing experience, pillows and blankets were ready for use, and a stack of DVD's sat by the TV. England smiled.

"It's great, Al. I just have one question."

"What?"

The green-eyed nation tugged at the bottom hem of his toga, self-conscious about how much skin he was showing. "Can I borrow some pants?"

X

Yawning, Arthur sat up and stretched as his stomach growled hungrily. For the last six or so hours, he'd been curled up on the couch with his American lover as they cuddled and watched sappy romantic movies. The couch had been turned into a nest of pillows and blankets with the two nations right in the middle. Arthur had loved every minute of it, but now his stomach was demanding that he eat something other than popcorn and chocolate.

"Oi, what's for dinner?"

A wide grin stretched over Al's face. "You'll see. Just let me get everything ready, and we'll eat. It'll only take a few minutes, promise."

"I believe you." The Brit placed a soft kiss on his lover's cheek. "Now go—I'm starving."

Chuckling, Alfred pushed his muscular frame off the couch and left the den, heading towards the kitchen. He'd spent time over the last two weeks practicing his cooking skills so that the food would be perfect, and had set up a small table for two in the dining room. A vase of flowers and candles sat on the linen-covered table, along with the finest china and silver Al possessed. All he needed to do was light the candles and put the food out, which only took about five minutes. When the table was ready, the blue-eyed nation bounded up the stairs to his room to change.

"Alfred, is dinner ready yet?" England called from the den, impatient. His stomach's noises were getting progressively louder.

Smiling, the American in question appeared in the doorway, dressed in a suit and tie. Feeling underdressed in only his toga and a borrowed pair of Alfred's pajama pants, Arthur raised an eyebrow in question. The bespectacled nation bowed, offering his arm.

"Shall we?"

England rolled his eyes but accepted, and the couple went to the dining room together. The shorter nation gasped quietly upon entering the room, surprised but pleased at what Alfred had done.

"Al, you didn't have to do all this. I'd have been happy with a regular dinner."

"I know, but it's Valentine's Day. I wanted it to be special."

Unexpectedly, the Brit pulled his tall lover into a gentle kiss. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this holiday isn't so worthless," he whispered, looking into the American's blue eyes. He could tell how happy it made him to hear that.

"I love you, Artie."

"And I love you, you miserable git."

Al chuckled then kissed the other nation before pulling a chair out for him.

"Well, at least you remember _some_ of the manners I taught you," Arthur teased as he sat and Al pushed his chair in for him. The American quickly occupied his own seat across the small table.

"I remember a lot of what you taught me, Artie." His tone took on a flirtatious edge. "And not just about table manners."

Arthur scowled at those innocent blue eyes as he placed his napkin in his lap. "I certainly didn't teach you to talk like that at dinner."

An impish grin replaced Alfred's innocent expression. "Are you going to punish me for it later?"

Blushing darkly, England took a sip of wine so he wouldn't have to see the smirk he knew was on Alfred's face.

"I hardly think a grown man like you should require punishment for poor table manners."

"Even if the one doing the punishing is my lover?"

"Judging by your tone, I'd say you think this 'punishment' will be more like a reward."

Lowering his gaze, Alfred looked at the other man through his eyelashes. "Only if Master Arthur wants it to be."

"You're a git, Alfred. Now shut up and eat."

"Yes, Master Arthur."

Arthur wondered if it would it ruin the mood if he strangled the American and left his body at the table to rot.

Probably.

X

"That's it, I'm full. I can't eat another bite," the Englishman announced, leaning back in his chair and patting his slightly distended belly.

"Just one more chocolate," Alfred wheedled. He'd eaten a lot more than the petite nation, but no one would have been surprised to hear that. All the food he'd prepared was gone save for the last piece of chocolate.

Sighing, Arthur opened his mouth and allowed the candy to be fed to him. His stomach was full of steak, sautéed green beans, sweet wine and chocolate, and he was feeling more than satisfied with the meal. He watched as Alfred began gathering up the dirty china and blew out the candles.

Silent, the green-eyed nation stood and gripped Alfred's hand, pulling the younger nation away from the table. Normally, Arthur would insist that the dishes be taken care of right away, but not this time. Curious as to what his lover was thinking, the American let himself be led upstairs. When they went into his bedroom, he realized that the older nation was probably tired, and smiled at the thought of falling asleep with the petite man in his arms.

Turning away from the shorter nation, he kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie in order to change into pajamas. Then he suddenly found himself lying on his back on the bed with a now pants-less Arthur straddling his waist.

"Artie?"

"Hush." A gentle but firm kiss was placed on his lips. "You've been spoiling me all day. It's my turn to spoil you." As if to make his point, the Brit pressed his hips down on Alfred's slightly; the American's eyes widened and he held back the quiet moan his lover's action caused.

"But, I thought you didn't want to…?"

"I didn't want to play along with the commercialism of this holiday. I have no problem with making love to my boyfriend, regardless of what day it is. And after how wonderful today was—aside from being kidnapped by France—I definitely think my wonderful boyfriend has earned a bit of love."

A light blush colored Alfred's cheeks. "I wasn't trying to earn anything. I just wanted you to have a happy Valentine's Day."

"I know. Now, please, be quiet, and let me make love with you."

Good lord. He _had_ to know how completely irresistible he sounded when he talked like that.

"Yes, Master Arthur."

England smirked at the title, fingers playing with the buttons on Al's shirt. "I haven't forgotten your poor manners at the beginning of dinner, my pet. You should know better than to tease your master." One by one, he opened the buttons to reveal the sun-kissed skin that stretched over the American's strong chest.

Fascinated by what was being done to his clothes, Al almost didn't realize that Arthur was waiting for a response. "I'm very sorry for my behavior, Master. Can you forgive me?"

Soft lips brushed against his collarbone and he heard Arthur chuckle.

"I could, but you're not getting off the hook that easily, love." Arthur's wings fluttered and he rose a few inches above Alfred's body, pale hands pinning the taller man's hips as he kissed down the tanned chest; his hands and lips were the only points where he touched the younger nation.

"Artie," the sandy blond whined, grabbing onto the older man's toga and trying to pull his body back down to press against his own without success. "You're teasing…"

"You better bloody believe I'm teasing."

The green-eyed nation bit down on his lover's chest, earning a surprised moan as the man lying below him arched. His tongue darted out and he licked the bite mark he'd made, soothing away any lingering pain. It was lovely to watch Alfred shudder, and he quickly switched his attention to the man's newly exposed nipples, attacking one with his mouth while his fingers played with the other. He bit gently, tugging, licking and sucking, his fingers pinching and rubbing and twisting as Alfred's breathing grew ragged and he whined desperately. A smirk curved England's lips and he sent his free hand sliding down the muscled plane of Alfred's stomach until he found the American's belt. Faster than Alfred thought was possible, his belt was unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned; his English lover abandoned the sensitive nubs on his chest and instead kissed downwards, tugging his pants and boxers off as he moved.

Cold air on his erection made Alfred gasp and shiver. "A-Arthur…please…no more games…"

"Tsk, tsk, my love. You must learn to be patient. We wouldn't want to have to prolong your punishment." Slowly, so goddamn slowly, he slid the American's member into his mouth and sucked gently, still pinning his hips. His mouth was hot and moist, forcing a loud groan from the younger nation.

"Ah! Nng…A-Artie!"

"Louder." His teeth dragged over the sensitive flesh, pulling a strangled moan from the blue-eyed man.

"Arthur! Oh, God, _Arthur!"_

Hearing his name being called in such a way made the Briton's own arousal grow, and he sucked harder on Alfred's erection, slowly bobbing his head. His skillful tongue was put to full use, wrapping around the length, rubbing the underside, flicking the tip, each movement driving more and more delicious sounds from the bespectacled nation. The younger man was trembling and tense, his fingers clutching at the blankets beneath him as his hips writhed and his toes curled.

"P-please, Artie! S-s-stop! I'm going to—!" Before he could get the rest of the words out, the Briton bit him, gently, and hummed deep in his throat. "Ahhh!"

Just like that, Alfred's hips bucked upwards and he climaxed, releasing his seed into England's torturous mouth. The ash blond pulled away and swallowed thickly, licking at the few drops that escaped onto his chin. America was panting heavily, looking up at his lover through dazed blue eyes.

"I hope you aren't tired already, love," Arthur purred, using Alfred's tie to pull him into a kiss. His tongue pressed against America's lips, seeking entrance, and the younger country quickly obliged, opening his mouth and moaning when England's tongue slipped inside to rub against his own. The kiss lasted for several minutes while Arthur removed what was left of his lover's clothing; he only broke it to pull his toga off over his head, stretching sensually as he did so.

"Arthur…"

"Hm?" Smiling innocently, England carefully settled in Alfred's lap and nuzzled his cheek, his hands resting on the toned chest.

Strong arms wrapped around the Brit's slender waist. "Are you finished with my punishment, Master?"

Arthur playfully licked the American's ear and picked up one of his hands. "What do you think?"

Just as Alfred opened his mouth to respond, Arthur slipped three of his lover's fingers into his mouth and sucked vigorously. Rather than forming words, the bespectacled nation's mouth went lax and he moaned softly, shifting beneath the Brit in order to create friction between them.

Smirking around the fingers, England began to grind his hips against the younger man's, moaning softly as he did so.

Alfred's groans were louder than the Brit's, his eyes locked on the mouth that was treating his fingers like lollipops while his neglected hand reached around the petite nation and stroked one of his wings. Arthur's eyes widened and he bucked his hips against the larger nation's, lightly biting America's fingers to hold back a moan. The reaction made Alfred smirk, and he continued stroking and gently squeezing the wing, watching as his British lover's actions grew gradually less controlled.

For several minutes, Arthur paid special attention to those fingers, licking them up and down, making sure to coat each one with a layer of saliva, all the while fighting his body's reaction to what Al was doing to his wing so that he wouldn't climax too early. But his eyes never looked away from Alfred's. After what America thought was an eternity, the Brit released his fingers with an audible _pop,_ then rose up on his knees. Alfred caught on quickly and slipped his hand between his green-eyed lover's thighs, stroking and rubbing his entrance.

"Ahn…Aaaaaal," Arthur moaned, wriggling at the sensation, wanting desperately for Alfred to go farther. His nails dug into the American's shoulders slightly. "More!"

Obligingly, Alfred gently inserted a finger, making the Englishman arch and gasp. It was quickly followed by a second finger, and Al scissored and pumped, stretching the smaller man as cries of pleasure and a little bit of pain filled his ears. Arthur pushed his hips down, trying to get the American's fingers to go deeper as he buried his face in Al's tan neck. After a few minutes of this, when Alfred thought Arthur could take it, he added his third slicked finger and twisted.

"Alfred!"

The sandy blond smiled and repeated the action, his fingers brushing against the bundle of nerves that made Arthur buck his hips and all but scream his name. He hit that spot a few more times before removing his fingers, and Arthur whimpered at the loss, lust-filled eyes staring at America as he pressed close in a needy way. Smiling, Alfred kissed the man straddling him. He moaned against Arthur's lips as their tongues wrestled, impatient to finally be inside Arthur's body. But he had to keep in control of himself, otherwise he might get too rough, and he didn't want that.

"Ready?" he asked his lover, tenderly brushing the Brit's sweat-darkened bangs out of his eyes as he guided the shorter man over his length, which was lubricated with Arthur's saliva from the blow-job he'd given the American.

"I've been ready for this since you gave me that bunny, Alfred."

The American chuckled and kissed him again, slipping his tongue into Arthur's welcoming mouth as he brought the Englishman's delicate hips down onto himself; they moaned together. Slowly at first, Arthur began to move, his wings flapping to help him lift up before pushing back down. His arms wrapped around Alfred's neck as his pace gradually increased, and he bit the younger nation's ear, moaning his name over and over. Both men were gasping, clinging to each other. Every breath was a sound of pleasure, a plea for more.

"A-Alfred…please…t-touch me…" Arthur begged, pressing his forehead to the American's and looking straight into his blue eyes.

"Where?"

"You k-know where, you g-git!"

Chuckling breathlessly, Alfred slipped one hand between their bodies and found the Brit's neglected sex, stroking the length in time with Arthur's movements—the older man's volume increased as he moaned. Alfred's other hand reached behind his lover and gently stroked one of his wings.

A shudder worked its way down Arthur's spine and he bucked weakly. "More…!"

The hand on his erection tightened and pumped faster, making the Brit increase his pace. Because Arthur's wings were flapping to help him move, Alfred chose a different sensitive area to play with to help his lover achieve his climax. Gently gripping the ash blond's chin, Alfred flicked his tongue out and licked along one of Arthur's eyebrows. Arthur shouted and bucked, his nails dragging down Alfred's back and making the American arch into his lover—the increase in friction made them both moan.

Pulling his chin free of Alfred's grip, Arthur pressed closer and bit the American's neck, sucking on the skin and tugging with his teeth. It was definitely going to form a bruise, which was exactly what the Englishman wanted.

"Arthur…ahng…" The hand Alfred had on his lover's erection moved faster, twisting slightly as it traveled up and down the shaft; he ran his thumb over the slit at the tip, making the older nation shudder and moan.

"S-so close, Alfred!"

Wings flapping vigorously and his nails cutting into Alfred's shoulders, Arthur moved as fast as he dared, slamming back down onto his lover's erection with enough force to bruise his rear end. They could both feel their climaxes quickly growing closer; they panted heavily, desperately touching every part of each other that they could reach in attempts to increase their pleasure.

Finally, Arthur lifted his hand and pinched the little hair on Alfred's head called Nantucket, tugging gently. With a hoarse shout, Alfred roughly bucked his hips up against his lover, releasing deep inside the older nation. The deeper penetration was enough to drag England over the edge and he came, his seed making a sticky mess on his and Alfred's stomachs. He kept moving, riding out his climax and extending America's orgasm as well, his hands tangled in Al's sandy blond hair as he kissed him deeply, their tongues entangled.

When at last the two nations collapsed, Arthur lay limply on Alfred's chest as both men gasped for breath, drenched in sweat. They trembled from the exertion of sex, exhausted but sated and smiling weakly. It took a few minutes for Arthur to gather what little strength he had left, which he used to lift himself off Alfred's now soft member before he snuggled into his lover's side. Absentmindedly, the American stroked the smaller nation's back for several long moments before he realized that Arthur's wings were gone.

"Artie…you're not Britannia Angel anymore…"

Arthur laughed tiredly. "Good. I don't know how France managed to get me to change, but I'm glad to be back to normal."

"Me, too…although the wings are pretty useful…"

A blush colored Arthur's cheeks. "I don't get tired as fast if I have them."

"And you get horny if I touch them," Alfred teased, which earned him a somewhat gentle elbow in the ribs from his green-eyed lover. It was probably intended to hurt, but both nations were too tired to care.

Sighing happily, Alfred pulled Arthur closer and kissed the top of his head. "Happy Valentine's Day, Artie. I love you."

"Happy Valentine's Day, love."


End file.
